FringeReview UK 2026
The Moth
Elysium Theatre Company and Andy Jordan Productions in association with Neil McPherson for the Finborough Theatre
Genre: Contemporary, Costume, Drama, Fringe Theatre, Historical, Mainstream Theatre, New Writing, Political, Theatre, Translation
Venue: Finborough Theatre
Festival: FringeReview UK
Low Down
A man on a train is joined by another, 29 years earlier. They soon recognise they’re from the same country but that doesn’t help. And both speak German, which certainly doesn’t. And one seeks – is it merely confession, forgiveness, absolution? How can two men across the Apartheid divide negotiate any reconciliation after such truth? Paul Herzberg’s The Moth directed by Jake Murray for Elysium and Andy Jordan Productions opens at the Finborough Theatre till November 21.
One of the most searing and probing theatre works around. Outstanding. See it.
Review
“I was born in prison.” A man stands in front of cameras for his show. Dissolve. That man on a train is joined by another, 29 years earlier. They soon recognise they’re from the same country but that doesn’t help. And both speak German, which certainly doesn’t. And one seeks – is it merely confession, forgiveness, absolution? How can two men across the Apartheid divide negotiate any reconciliation after such truth? Paul Herzberg’s The Moth directed by Jake Murray for Elysium and Andy Jordan Productions opens at the Finborough Theatre till November 21.
Both Jordan and Murray have directed Herzberg’s plays. With The Moth originally premiered in 2025 at Queen’s Hall Hexham, it’s Murray’s fifth production over a 30-year-collaboration. The work runs for two hours with a Q&A after some. Tonight’s features Peter Hain with writer, director and cast.
“The beast’s still twitching” says British journalist John Josana (Faz Singhateh) who goes on to relate a story of 2002: how after he wins a journalist award a woman patronises “someone like you”. Singhateh’s consummate amongst other things at the razor-line dividing humour and ferocious outrage. In a riposte Singhateh smiles: “It fabricates contrast then inflates it to unform belief… a system that keeps the privileged in power and endorses the kind of remark you just made.” Josana’s not inclined to take prisoners, and riffing back with his memory to his activist father’s stepfather Soweto in 1976, his mother’s vanishing, one begins to see why so much lies unforgiven.
Cue Marius Muller (Micky Cochrane), ex-special forces South African recruit at 18, who took part, we learn, in the insurgent South African operations in southern Angola in 1989. It remains the largest – and most secret – war in Africa since World War Two. Angola’s still the thickest-strewn minefield in the world. If the first meeting in 1997 is chance, others are Muller’s way of seeking closure on a six-hour (and ten-beer) confession he still left open. Including his curious reaction when Josana attempts to squash a troublesome fly. It’s emblematic of something we wait years to discover, giving the play its innocuous, seemingly misleading title.
Years later, Muller’s had some unusual allies in tracking down Josana’s address. Josana had hoped never to see him again. And yet the two seem destined, or is it compelled – to keep on meeting. It’s a pity when Muller brings something left by his father. The man who’d joyfully worked with Nazis from 1936-42, but whose competence never matched his savage treatment of his son. He claims Marius’ mother (16 to the father’s 40 when they met) is dead. The truth upends that. Josana’s mother too who at 20 couldn’t face more treacherous crossings and escapes, still lives. Josana has no desire to meet her. Josana’s odyssey through East Germany from 1976-81 was a path traced by many ANC intellectuals, before making it to Britain. Their histories seem to stalk each other; Muller has unwanted keys he can unlock Josana with.
Despite this being a history apparently stacked against Muller – brilliantly inhabited by Cochrane whose accent is notably accurate, according to all South Africans present – it’s not so simple. Not that Herzberg brings a single mitigation to Muller’s actions during the conflict. One moment in particular, releasing the moth, the culmination of the first act, is also pivotal. Its origins via an uncle are here developed by Herzberg into a shivering metaphor for a haunting.
Cochrane’s hulking – and bearded – presence more than amplifies his remarkable vocal skills. He tenses with danger, explosive promise and hurt, as well as an almost overweening need to connect and release. His is a phenomenal performance. Singhateh, behind the grimace of narrator, has to remain more contained, less visceral and apparently as laid back as Josana’s RP. Singhateh though is deceptively expressive: his sometimes acid-dipped control also exhibits a masterly ferocity, contained by Josana’s Cambridge manners and a marriage that seems to give him everything. But then there’s his mother.
Amelia Mitchell’s set features snazzy vertical displays of John Josana’s TV ‘Confessional’ like portals you enter at your peril for absolution. A versatile table and chairs do service for railway carriage and office. Paul C Clark’s sound and music neatly melds with his and Mitchell’s video design, which plays stills of conflict, headlines and – frequently – what’s seen from a speeding train. Lit by Simon Cole there’s a neat distinction between TV lights, a railway carriage and an office in a well-appointed home.
The mix of narration and delivery sashays back and forth into confrontation and immersive, often explosive encounters. The Moth is unusual in combining both at such velocity. At first this threatened to come across as bitty. It soon resolved itself in some astonishing scenes. The last third of the play brilliantly probes Josana’s own virtue-signalling (a virtue he’s certainly entitled to), the carapace of famed investigative journalist and challenger of confessions on a prime TV slot. There’s a liberal use of Afrikaans at pointed, heightened moments; indeed at the back of the playtext there’s an extensive Afrikaans glossary which also includes Zulu.
The brilliance of Herzberg’s play lies not in some devastating reveal, but in a small detonation of them, bringing painful histories to a gleam of truth, like a revealed mineral out of the earth. Most of all it invokes an edgy amity, a shadow sibling relationship, which both protagonists must acknowledge. No good trying to render a bromance from this, though Muller keeps trying. Josana’s too hurt by his own history to allow it. Yet Muller has transformed his life as much as he has Muller’s. As Josana concludes: “What I know or I think I know…. Is that certain things need to remain… inexplicable.”
After the show Peter Hain joined the cast with director and writer to discuss the veracity of the play, its witness, and major reveals from Cochrane (about a fellow band-member) and Singhateh some astonishing personal details. Beyond this, the genesis of the play (a lockdown monologue delivered by Victor Power) and its relation to biography and other work enriched an evening where audience members contributed some overwhelming detail. Even without one of these Q&As, this is one of the most searing and probing theatre works around. Outstanding. See it.
Voice of John Josana’s voice performed by Adjoa Andosh
General and Production Manager Chris Corner, Assistant Producer Amie Brian, Stage Managers Ted Walliker and Lev Govorovski, Production Assistant Lucy Smith, PR Nancy Poole.
General Manager Tara Marricdale, Assistant General Managers Lois Rodel, Silvia Verzaro and Isaac Woon, Resident Designer Alex Marker, Resident Assistant Designer Juliette Demoulin, Assistant Resident Director Jillian Feuerstein, Resident Assistant Producer Jaemin Yu, Cover Art Designer, Jillian Feuerstein.
Elysium Theatre Company and Andy Jordan Productions in association with Neil McPherson for the Finborough Theatre.
